


The Return

by BelladonaBaggins



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Brotherly Love, Brotherly cuddling, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I’m not good at summaries, Minor depiction of blood and cuts and wound cleaning, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, The Refuge (mentioned), Touch-starved Jack Kelly, Whump, my first newsies fic!, not beta-ed, not plotted, pls don’t read if you’re not comfortable with this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:01:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28684482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelladonaBaggins/pseuds/BelladonaBaggins
Summary: Jack’s back from the Refuge. But he’s not like he usually is. This time, he’s desperate for his brother’s company to reassure him.
Relationships: Crutchie & Jack Kelly
Comments: 10
Kudos: 16





	The Return

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: contains depictions—but not too graphic—of open wounds and wound cleaning.  
> Takes place the same year as the musical, just a few months beforehand. Note that in this, I imagine Crutchie as AKB and Jack as Dan Deluca. It’s weird, I know.

The other side of the fire escape looking over the streets of New York was cold and empty, as it had been for a few weeks.

Weeks. Chills ran down Crutchie’s spine, and not only from the slight chill in the spring air. The boy pulled the thin blanket tighter around himself, looking up at the dark, star-filled sky. His head rested against the bricks of the Lodging House behind him, where the newsies of lower Manhattan were resting peacefully for several hours already. All except two. One was Crutchie—he hadn’t slept a whole night through for a certain number of weeks, not when the other person not sleeping in the Lodging House was not actually in the Lodging House.

Jack had been in the Refuge for at least three weeks now, ever since Crutchie returned to the Lodging House and Jack wasn’t there, nor was he there the next day, or the day after that. If a newsboy disappeared, it was obvious that he either ran away or was taken to the Refuge for whatever reason. Despite Jack’s fantasies of Santa Fe, Crutchie knew his friend had been caught, knowing Jack’s history with Warden Snyder.

The thoughts were disturbing. Crutchie had never been inside the Refuge himself, but if Jack’s fever-filled drawings of that nightmarish place told him anything, he knew that any kid on the streets had good enough cause to fear both the Refuge and the Spider. Even Jack, deep down and beneath his usual tough-guy facade, was terrified of that.

Crutchie shook his head and looked up at the navy-blue sky again, forcing himself out of his thoughts and fears of the Refuge. The stars were particularly bright tonight. If he focused hard enough, he could squint one eye and draw out a constellation in the sky with his finger. He started to do this, but then his heart quickly dropped in time with his hand when he remembered that the spot across the fire escape was empty of his friend’s presence. His heart clenched painfully in his chest and he inhaled a shuddering breath.

Might as well get a little sleep, Crutchie thought. As he was about to lie on his side and close his eyes, he felt the metal of the fire escape creak and jostle beneath him. Alarmed, the boy froze in place and listened as the stranger began climbing the ladder. Listening closer, Crutchie quickly concluded that whoever it was, was injured, given the groans and winces that fell upon the air with each ladder rung climbed.

Crutchie pulled himself into as small a ball as he could in the corner of the fire escape, blanket covering his entire body. Only one hand poked out of the blanket, reaching for his crutch at his side, should the stranger be unwelcome and Crutchie needed to defend himself.

He bit his lip harder and harder until the stranger’s head popped over the side of the fire escape. A… familiar, dark-haired head.

“Jack?” Crutchie dared to speak out into the darkness.

The figure groaned in response, and, after a moment of hesitation, continued pulling himself up. Crutchie made himself relax and crawl over to the ladder. Indeed, it was Jack Kelly, his face darkened by more than just the night, both physically and emotionally.

“Jack,” Crutchie said again, reaching a desperate hand down to his friend.

Jack flinched away from Crutchie’s hand. “Don’t,” he gasped softly.

Crutchie drew his hand back immediately, but was careful not to make any sudden movements. Jack would never explain the horrors inflicted upon him in the Refuge—not directly—but one thing Crutchie did learn was not to touch his friend too much. Whether that was because Jack was hurting physically or hurting within, Crutchie didn’t know. Maybe it was both.

Jack finally pulled himself up onto the fire escape with a loud groan—well, he fell, more like. One of his hands protectively encircled his side as he fell, and his eyes fluttered shut. His breaths came out as ragged and pained, and sometimes a whimper appeared every now and then.

Carefully, Crutchie sat up, shoving his blanket off of himself. Surprisingly, there weren’t many notable bruises on Jack, like any of the previous visits to the Refuge typically inflicted upon him. Because of that, the dark, wet spot directly under Jack’s hand cupped at his side, drew Crutchie’s attention almost immediately. Facing falling into a grimace, Crutchie moved over to his friend’s side, moving slowly and deliberately.

“Jack, lemme look at your side,” he said softly. Jack’s eyes snapped open, and he whimpered a little in protest. Crutchie hated seeing his friend like this. “It’s okay, Jackie. You gotta let me see it.”

Their gazes locked for a moment, then Jack sighed. Crutchie took the opportunity to move his hands to the large bloodstain on Jack’s shirt. “I’m gonna lift your shirt a little, Jack. Is that okay?”

Jack nodded mutely. He squeezed his eyes shut as Crutchie lifted his shirt up just enough to pull the red, sticky material from a long, slightly-crooked cut along the side of his lower ribs. Crutchie’s breath hitched despite himself, and he swore beneath his breath. The cut was deep and bleeding fresh blood.

“I…” Crutchie struggled for words. “I’ll be right back, Jackie. Right back.” Grabbing his crutch, he pulled himself to his feet. Before starting to make his way down the ladder, he set his own blanket over Jack’s shoulder. It didn’t cover him completely, but it would have to do.

And Crutchie made the descent down the ladder to the window of the bunk room.

A few moments later, he began ascending the ladder, his vest pocket bulging with a few of the sparse medical supplies the newsies owned. He climbed the ladder as quick as he could with one leg and one arm—since his other hand was holding his crutch—and by the time he made it to the top, he was sweating despite the breeze. Almost forgetting to catch his breath, he crawled over to Jack’s side.

“I’m back,” he said softly, settling himself.

He began laying out all of the contents of his pocket off to the side: a spool of thread, a needle, Buttons’ sewing scissors, a few damp cloths, and a small bottle of disinfectant that all the newsies pitched in to buy. As Crutchie leaned forward to push part of the blanket off of Jack, one of Jack’s hands found his. He was startled only for a second—Jack would not allow that much contact directly after a visit to the Refuge; not on his part, at least—but Crutchie exhaled and squeezed Jack’s hand, not too hard.

“Hey, hey,” Crutchie whispered. “It’s gonna be okay. You ain’t there anymore, I promise.”

Jack’s breaths relaxed significantly, and his eyes fluttered shut. Crutchie smiled sadly.

“I’ll take care of ya,” he continued. “Just… relax, okay? I’ve gotta stitch you up.”

“N- no,” Jack rasped, almost drawing his hand away. Crutchie only grabbed it tighter.

“I hafta, Jack. Or it’s gonna get worse. I know I ain’t as skilled with a needle as Buttons or Specs, but Buttons is squeamish around blood an’ I don’t think I can go down to the bunk room again to wake up Specs… So yer stuck with me, I’m afraid.” He forced an extremely humor-lacking chuckle.

Jack actually smiled a little in return. “I trust ya, Crutch.”

Even though Jack hadn’t said much so far, it was more than he had ever said after a return from the Refuge. Might as well keep him talking. Crutchie squeezed the other boy’s hand again before reluctantly letting go.

Crutchie spoke as he leaned over to grab his pillow, “The headline was great today, Jackie. ‘New Building in Queens Loses Structural Integrity,’ I thinks it was. There was a pitcha an’ everything. Not a lotta casualties, but nothing a little exaggeration can’t fix. Kenny says he gott a whole quarter for one of his papes!” 

Jack scoffed. “That kid ain’t never showed one of those quarters he keeps getting,” he said, lifting his head with a slight wince as Crutchie placed the pillow under.

“Or that dollar bill he says he has,” Crutchie snickered.

Chuckling softly, Jack shook his head.

“Yesterday’s headline stunk though.” Crutchie hid a wince as he uncovered Jack’s cut. “Stunk worse than the Delanceys, I say. Somethin’ about new trade negotiations made with some European country. Not even Mush could make up a good enough headline to sell. Elmer almost cried.”

Jack let out a breath from his nose. “Poor kid,” he muttered.

Crutchie hesitated, then said softly, “He misses ya, Jackie. They all do. We was all so scared… like we always are. But… I dunno. This time was different.” He sighed shortly as he threaded the needle, which proved to be somewhat of a difficult thing to do in the darkness. “Romeo couldn’t sleep for the first few days, he was so scared. An’ Mike an’ Ike… they either couldn’t sleep or were always at each other’s throats. I…”

Jack’s breaths had become more unsteady as Crutchie had spoken, until Crutchie noticed and let his voice trail away.

“‘m sorry, Jack. I won’t…” Crutchie sighed. “I gotta clean this up…” He took one of the damp rags and wiped the excess blood from around the wound, hesitating only when Jack hissed in pain. “Sorry,” he said when most of the blood was cleared. He reached for the bottle of disinfectant. “This’s gonna sting a little.”

Nothing could have prepared Crutchie for the flinch and cry of pain Jack let out when Crutchie poured a few drops of disinfectant over to the cut.

“Sorry, sorry!” Crutchie said, quickly screwing the cap back onto the medicine bottle and putting it far away from them. “I’m so sorry, Jack.”

It took a few moments for Jack to relax again, but even then, the muscles in his arms were still tight. Crutchie made sure to wait just a while longer before bringing the needle to Jack’s skin.

“I’m gonna start stitchin’ you up, pal,” he said. “Just relax.”

Fortunately Jack didn’t flinch too much when the needle dug into his skin and the thread was pulled through, nor during the following punctures and pulls. His chest was tight though, so much so that Crutchie could see the vague outline of his ribs beneath the pale, bruised flesh.

“You gotta relax, Jackie. Or yer gonna break the stitches once I’m done, and I’ll have to do this all over again.”

After a minute, Jack nodded. Crutchie put a comforting hand on the side of Jack’s face before he continued stitching the cut.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay,” Crutchie murmured, his heart throbbing with each pained sigh Jack let out, though they were near inaudible. “Just two more stitches. You can do it. Hush… One more, Jackie. One more…”

“Are you done yet?” Jack said through clenched teeth.

“Mhm,” Crutchie hummed. “I gotta cut the thread though, so hold still.” Two snips later, Crutchie breathed a heavy sigh—one of a relief—and put the needle and thread away. “Okay, Jackie,” he said while wiping off the excess blood from his hands and Jack’s skin. “You’re all good. I’m done.”

“Thank you,” Jack said, closing his eyes.

Crutchie nodded, though Jack couldn’t see him. “Try not to pull on ‘em too much. I don’t wanna have to do that again,” he said again, this time with a forced laugh. Crutchie helped Jack turn over on his back, putting a careful hand over his injured side. “Be glad my hands weren’t shakin’, or I woulda hurt ya more than helped ya.”

Jack grinned, eyes half-closed. “Ya did good, Crutch. Thanks.”

“No problem, Jackie.” He grunted as he turned himself so he was sitting right beside his friend, leaning sideways on the bars of the fire escape. “You should get some sleep. I can spot ya a few papes tomorrow if yer up to sellin’.”

Jack hummed. After a few minutes of silence, he reached for Crutchie’s hand again, then pulled it down to his chest. Crutchie grinned down at his friend then looked back out over the quiet, dim streets beyond. His grin faltered slightly when Jack tugged naggingly on his arm.

“Jackie, what—”

“Can ya just…” Jack whispered, then sighed. “I- I need… Please. I…”

“What do you need Jack?”

Crutchie could hear the wave of fear in his brother’s voice as he said, “Can ya stay here? With me? I- I can’t be alone. N- not this time.”

This time is different, Crutchie realized. “Yeah… Yeah, of course, Jack. I…” He cleared his throat. “Do ya want me to lie down by ya?”

Jack nodded tiredly.

“Alright.” Crutchie carefully put himself into a lying position, not quite touching Jack, but not too far away either. He bundled up his vest to use it as a pillow, and breathed out once he was comfortable.

Jack immediately grabbed Crutchie’s hand again, this time entwining their fingers. The gesture surprised Crutchie—Jack was never this… touchy after his return. Never. If someone tried touching him, even the littles, he’d flinch and become irritable and sometimes yell and shout. Then he’d storm off to the fire escape for the rest of the day, not speaking to anyone.

Not tonight. Tonight, Jack was clutching his brother’s hand to his chest like it was a lifeline. What had happened to him in the Refuge this time?

“Jack?” Crutchie’s voice broke the silence. “Jack, what… what happened?”

For a while, all that could be heard was their mingled breathing, Jack’s notably louder than Crutchie’s. “I escaped,” he said. “Went through the window in the basement. I scratched myself on one of the metal latches.” Crutchie’s eyes drifted to the cut, and he was relieved that he thought enough to disinfect it.

“What happened before that?” Crutchie asked.

“Snyder locked me in the basement,” Jack said quickly, immediately. He wanted to get this overwith. “Dinnit even hurt me much or nothin’. Dinnit lock me in a closet like he usually does, or beat me in front of the other kids. Just… put me in an empty room and left me there. Don’t even know how many times he fed me. Lost track of time. I was alone.” He choked on a quiet sob. “I… I was alone. An’… I was scared, Charlie. I was so scared.”

Crutchie sat up slowly, but kept his hand in Jack’s grasp. Jack almost never called him by his real name—not in front of the other boys, at least. It was a part of his past that Crutchie wanted to forget, that only Jack knew about. But it all made sense. Why Jack was acting different than usual.

Crutchie let his free hand fall to Jack’s dark hair, and he began gently scratching his scalp. Jack whimpered but relaxed; he’d explained once to his brother that his mother used to brush his hair with her fingers to calm him down, and this was the first time Crutchie had tried it. Now was as good a time as any to do it though.

“It’s okay, Jackie,” he whispered, voice so full of emotion he felt like he could cry. “I promise you, big brother. It’s okay now. I’m here. I won’t leave ya. You won’t be alone.”

Jack’s eyes fluttered open and met Crutchie’s. Tears brimmed Jack’s gray-blue irises, and he blinked them away with a tight, sad smile, tightening his hold on Crutchie’s hand at the same time.

“Thank you,” Jack croaked. “Thank you, Charlie.”

Crutchie placed a soft, brotherly kiss onto Jack’s hairline before lying down again. Jack curled up next to him, head right under Crutchie’s chin. Chuckling softly, Crutchie put a hand around Jack’s side, careful of the stitches.

“I’m here, Jackie,” the younger whispered into his friend’s hair. “I’ll always be here for ya. Look. Open your eyes, big brother.”

Jack turned his head and opened his eyes slightly. Crutchie smiled. As he continued running gentle fingers through Jack’s hair, he said, “Lookit the stars, Jackie. They’re really bright tonight, ain’t they?”

Jack nodded, blinking slowly.

“I’ve been reading one of the constellation books at the library,” Crutchie said. “I go there after selling sometimes. The books say that some of those stars up there connect to make shapes in the sky. Somma the shapes are kinda random or weird, but it’s really neat, I think.” He closed one eye and squinted out the other, stretching both of their hands above them. “See that guy? Connect it there, there… and there. Then down there, to the North Star, that real bright one. They call that the Little Dipper. Pretty interesting, huh? The Big Dipper’s right next to ‘im, right over there…”

And Crutchie continued doing this until their hands became tired and Jack’s eyes closed peacefully, and both fell into a restful sleep. When they woke up the next morning, still snuggled up by each other, they didn’t speak of this or any of it. Not for a long time.

But neither would forget it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, fansies! This is my first newsies fic, written literally by the seat of my pants over the span of about 4 hours because I like procrastinating on homework. So I hope this is not too bad! I really enjoyed writing this—I just love Jack and Crutchie’s relationship. I was inspired by another fellow newsie fanfiction writer, bravest_person_in_Wonderland, to start writing some backstories for the newsies. I also added a few of my own newsie headcanons in here… My favorite headcanon is that Kenny (a very underrated newsie, played by Jack Sippel) claims he once got an entire dollar bill for a pape, but almost nobody believes him because he’s never showed anybody. XD Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this! Feel free to leave a comment/review or kudos/favorite… or both! 
> 
> Love ya and God bless!
> 
> Bella


End file.
